


Spoils of War

by matrixrefugee



Category: Gankutsuou: The Count of Monte Cristo
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-23
Updated: 2019-02-23
Packaged: 2019-11-04 05:11:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17892119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/matrixrefugee/pseuds/matrixrefugee
Summary: Mercedes is tired of being on display...





	Spoils of War

**Author's Note:**

> Written for "fic_promptly"'s [Gankutsuou, Mercedes, on display](http://fic-promptly.dreamwidth.org/28806.html?thread=1287302&format=light#cmt1287302)

She'd married Fernand only out of loneliness: he had consoled her after Edmond's arrest for sedition and treason, and in time, she had grown fond of him. At first, their love had felt the closest thing to real that she could expect, after having loved Edmond as deeply as she had. They were young, he was handsome and kind. She thought she had known him, since the three of them had been such fond friends.

But in time, she saw what Danglars and Villefort did to him: they influenced him, the successes that the three of them enjoyed corrupted Fernand. He put himself up as a nobleman of a long and vaunted line, but she knew in her heart they were both commoners. But she played along with his charade, to give their son a better life than the one they had had. She put herself up as his bride, the wife of a general who was a decorated hero of the wars in Eastern Space, a commoner who married a viscount in a fairy tale romance, with a wedding worthy of royalty.

She had read about the triumphal processions that the Roman Empire held when their armies returned victorious, how they would display treasures snatched from their defeated enemies, and their more noted captives. She felt like one of those captives, albeit one in golden chains. She carried herself gracefully at the banquets and public functions which her husband's duties attended, but she always felt like she was a mere trophy on display, one of the spoils of war being paraded for the rest of the world to see, one more thing that Fernand used to prop up his shaky claim to nobility. Oh, she could speak with the dignitaries and their wives with grace and propriety, but she felt like she was playing a part. No actress could play a part as well and as thoroughly as she did, and she had to do this in real life.

She wondered when the romantic drama that her life had been had devolved into a farce, and she feared it would become a tragedy before it came to the final act.


End file.
